


In the light of the morning

by Zoadgo



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Modern AU, gangster au, mentions of criminal activity, some canon typical guilt and repentance but primarily fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 01:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13671048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: Prompt: Just domestic fluff. Can be modern setting au. No wars, no battles, no bloodshed. Just Heahmund and Ivar being in love and happy. Maybe planning breakfast after having sex the previous night, or discussing the fruits and vegetables of their homelands, or discussing what animals are better as pets.





	In the light of the morning

Heahmund always wakes up before sunrise, in order to greet the new day with prayer and repentance for his sins. On this particular morning, he has many sins to beg forgiveness for. He slips from his bed in the pale blue of early morning, motion not disturbing the gentle breathing of the man next to him in the slightest. He grabs a pair of loose pants from the floor and clothes himself in only those, bare feet chilled on the floor.

The apartment is dark, but there’s enough light for Heahmund to find his way to the balcony, letting himself out into the biting cold of the pre dawn air. Being shirtless in this weather is punishing, but that’s sort of the point. Heahmund drops to his knees, facing towards the first hints of pink on the horizon, taking in the dull pain of impact and rectifying it with his soul. He clasps his hands before him, breath forming thick clouds.

“My Lord God, forgive me, for I have sinned,” Heahmund begins, focusing on the guilt of his actions. Guilt will save the sinner, for we all sin, but the godly man repents. “It has been one day since my last confession.”

Heahmund used to go to a proper confessional, but since he fell in with the crowd he works for now, such a thing is highly discouraged. It doesn’t matter to him, anyway. God can pass judgement on him better than any priest ever could.

“I killed a man.” Hehamund breathes his first sin of the day into reality. He doesn’t have to worry about being overheard here, this entire building belongs to his employers. And if anyone did report his words, well, Heahmund is well known for metaphors and dramatic hyperboles. “And I enjoyed it. I held a man down while he was tortured, and inflicted torture upon another myself. I did all these things of my own free will.”

Heahmund knows his work is evil, but he rectifies it with the fact that he only hurts men who are themselves evil. His employers hurt others, but they know his rules, and they respect that. At least, for now they do. What the future holds is out of his control, all Heahmund knows is that he is good at causing pain, and this way he can do so without being beyond redemption.

“There is more, my Lord, but pertaining to a different sin.” Heahmund swallows, memories of his night hot in the back of his mind. “I laid with a man. Many times. I fell victim to vanity and to lust, I engaged in sins of the flesh without remorse. I did all these things of my own free will.”

Heahmund doesn’t need to speak the specific acts; the feeling of Ivar’s lips upon his neck, of his grip twisting in Ivar’s hair as Ivar took him into his mouth, of exploring Ivar with his fingers, entering him with blasphemy caught on his lips. God knows his sins, and knows that for all the guilt he feels, Heahmund will sin again. He is a godly man, but not necessarily a strong one and the temptations of earth are powerful.

Heahmund opens himself up to the influence of his God as the sun crests the horizon, baring his soul for the divine to sort through. In silence he finds a peace in the aching of his knees, the painful cold in his fingertips and toes, the shivers coursing through his body. The first true light of dawn shines into his eyes, and Heahmund feels full of the glory of God. He nods his head with a sigh, spirit lighter.

“Amen.” Heahmund closes his prayers and pushes himself to his feet, barely avoiding stumbling as cold joints take his weight. He used to be harder on himself than this, in the days before he met Ivar, but Ivar has a very compelling way of explaining things. Heahmund now leaves his guilt with his prayers as he walks back into the apartment, for what is the point in tormenting himself internally if he fully knows he will repeat all his actions anyway?

The air inside feels warm relative to the chill clinging to Heahmund’s skin, so he doesn’t bother putting on a shirt or socks, simply turns lights on as he walks to the kitchen. He hears grumbling from the bedroom as he turns on the light in there too, and he smiles to himself. Were it not for him, he’s convinced Ivar would sleep until noon every day. But they have so little time in each day and Heahmund will not let his lover pass it in slumber.

Heahmund busies himself in the kitchen as a great deal of thumping and cursing sounds forth from the bedroom. Ivar has never been a morning person, preferring to stay awake late into the night, but Heahmund knows he’ll get up for the promise of coffee and eggs. With the coffee maker bubbling happily away next to him, Heahmund cooks their breakfast; simply eggs and a piece of toast for each of them. Ivar practically has to be forced to eat in the morning, and Heahmund believes in eating plainly whenever possible, so as not to fall prey to too many temptations of gluttony.

The sounds of Ivar pulling himself across the floor are familiar to Heahmund, so he doesn’t bother turning around, simply shifts the eggs in the pan. He hears soft grunts as Ivar pulls himself bodily into his chair at the counter, a chair with weights in the bottoms of the legs to prevent it from tipping.

“You are an evil man,” Ivar complains, and Heahmund smiles at the eggs. Ivar would never call him evil in seriousness, only when he’s complaining about something petty. “Why do you never let me sleep?”

Heahmund picks up the pan, eggs cooked to his satisfaction, and prepares plates for the both of them, turning to place Ivar’s in front of him. Ivar looks entirely disgruntled, but when Heahmund walks towards him he smiles, dragging his gaze over Heahmund’s bare chest lewdly. “Although, I suppose the view isn’t bad in the morning.”

Heahmund shakes his head fondly and taps the edge of Ivar’s plate. “Eat.”

Ivar wrinkles his nose at the food as if Heahmund had served him garbage, picking up his fork simply to shift the eggs around. Heahmund sends a silent plea to heaven for strength in dealing with his lover, who for all his brilliance and sadism, is a shockingly petulant child sometimes.

“If you want coffee, you will eat,” Heahmund threatens, pouring himself a cup and taking a long sip of it while locking eyes with Ivar, who manages to look dramatically offended.

“See, I live with evil.” Ivar shakes his head, picking up his toast and begrudgingly taking a bite. “What would your God say to you torturing an innocent man like this, hm?”

Ivar points his toast at Heahmund accusingly, and Heahmund laughs. “Show me an innocent man, and we will see.”

He hands his own mug to Ivar - who drops his food immediately in favour of caffeine - and chuckles, pouring another for himself. In these moments, when Heahmund has just freed the weight of his soul and there are no expectations on them, Heahmund believes he can see hints of paradise. Warmth in his stomach for the coffee, laughter in his heart from Ivar, this is what life should be like.

“You’re smiling,” Ivar points out, returning to his breakfast only after the mug is empty of the last drop of coffee. “Did your God speak to you this morning?”

Heahmund hums thoughtfully. “Not in the way you think, but yes.”

“Ah yes, your God talks without talking. Seems very confusing.” Ivar talks with his mouth full, and Heahmund passes him a napkin to clean crumbs from his face. They’ve been over this a million times, and Ivar understands as much as he ever will, but that doesn’t prevent him from attempting to poke holes in Heahmund’s faith. Heahmund doesn’t mind, finds his bond with God is all the stronger for it.

“Not as confusing as you,” Heahmund responds, and Ivar scoffs.

“How am I confusing? I am the most honest man I know,” he lies with a wide grin.

“Ivar, we’re criminals,” Heahmund points out, setting aside his now-empty mug and leaning on the counter opposite Ivar. Ivar leans forward with a small shrug.

“So, who says criminals can’t be honest, hm?” Ivar taps a finger in the center of Heahmund’s chest. “You like to think yourself an honest man, so why can’t I be one too? We do the same work, after all.”

Heahmund knows full well that Ivar is only arguing the point to try and get a rise out of him, and this time, he doesn’t oblige. He simply nods. “Okay then. You’re an honest man. Which means you would not harbour feelings for others without their knowledge, or trick them into your bed.”

“Hey!” Ivar exclaims in mock indignation. “When did I ever trick you?”

“You pretended to have hypothermia so I would lay in your bed with you?” Heahmund raises an eyebrow, reminding Ivar of exactly how their relationship had started. With a lie, actually many lies, but Heahmund doesn’t harbour any ill will about that now. In fact, he finds it somewhat amusing.

“Oh, right. Well, I suppose I am not honest.” Ivar shrugs with a sigh, as if he had ever cared about the topic in the first place, and then the corners of his lips curl up into a wicked smile and he practically crawls onto the counter in order to invade Heahmund’s personal space. “Does that mean you need to punish me for my wickedness?”

Heahmund knows exactly what response Ivar wants, and although it is tempting to deny him it, Heahmund is not that strong a man. He reaches forward with one hand and threads his fingers into Ivar’s hair, pulling him to him and kissing him. Not punishing, as Ivar might have wanted, but a slow, burning heat as their lips mesh together. He tastes the coffee on Ivar’s tongue, drags his teeth lightly over his bottom lip, just enough to tease. As Ivar begins to melt in his grasp, Heahmund pulls away, using Ivar’s hair to hold him in place and prevent him from chasing Heahmund’s lips with his own.

“Now Ivar, do you really think you deserve punishment?” Heahmund asks, and Ivar blinks at him slowly. He’s always so thrown off by intimacy, so genuinely open whenever Heahmund is soft with him.

“No,” Ivar confesses. “But for you I would take it anyway.”

Heahmund answers him with more kisses, and knows that tomorrow morning he shall have to confess again, most rigorously.

**Author's Note:**

> So I can't write fluff without at least mentioning death, apparently! But I think I wrote fluff while still keeping it somewhat in character, maybe? Anyway, eternal thanks to [Etra](http://coldsaturn.tumblr.com) who actually knows how to use commas! I do not.
> 
> Feel free to come shoot me prompts or chat with me [on tumblr!](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) And thanks in advance for commenting/viewing/leaving kudos <3


End file.
